Learning the spousal spirituality of the Song of Songs
06/10/2025
John Paul II completes his
treatment of the wedding work by providing a special spousal spirituality
reflecting deeply on the unique Old Testament books of Song of Songs and Tobit.
Sooner or later, all couples experience dryness, discouragement, and sometimes
even face divorce. Husband and wife feel like the unfortunate couple at Cana in
John 2, who embarrassingly ran out of wine at their wedding (Jn 2:3).
Symbolically speaking, the initial
inebriation of married love (the wine) of the honeymoon gives way to the staid
sobriety (the water) of the honey-do list: the daily drudgery, emotional
distance, bickering, and who’s turn is it to wake up with the baby? By
contrast, John Paul’s analysis of Song of Songs and Tobit seeks to produce the
opposite effect: to turn the water of lack-luster love back into the wine of
the Lord’s love for us. And ultimately, he wants to raise a cup to the couple’s
lips like at a wedding Mass so they can taste again “the best wine” (Jn 2:10),
namely, Jesus.
Let me make three quick comments
about the pope’s penetrating examination of the Song of Songs. First, he notes
that the overall structure is not simply an inspired poem, but more of a duet
or a dialogue between a lover and his beloved. John Paul remarks:
What was barely expressed in the
second chapter of Genesis (vv 23-25) in just a few simple and essential words
is developed here in full dialogue, or rather in a duet, in which the
Bridegroom’s words are interwoven with the bride’s, and they complete each
other (552).
I will never forget the loving duet
by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton called “Islands in the Stream.” They sang in
sync: “Islands in the stream / That is what we are / No one in between / How
can we be wrong? / Sail away with me / To another world / And we rely on each
other, ah, ha / From one lover to another, uh ha.” Now, Kenny and Dolly are
clearly not inspired authors of Scripture. Nonetheless, they still capture the
same enchanting duet and dialogue of lovers. As such, their song gives us a
glimpse into the enduring appeal of the Song of Songs.
Secondly, John Paul calls our
attention to the paradoxical titles that the bridegroom and the bride bestow on
each other. The bridegroom says: “You have ravished my heart, my sister, my
bride” (Song 4:9). And for her part, the bride replies: “O that you were a
brother to me, who nursed at my mother’s breast!” (Song 8:1).
The Holy Father notes that by
addressing the bride as “sister” the bridegroom expresses “a disinterested
tenderness” that is filled with respect and reverence for the person of the
bride. John Paul recognizes the result of this disinterested love: “From here
[the perspective of seeing the bride in familial terms], consequently, arises
the peace that the bride speaks of” (566).
I had a professor in the seminary
who suggested that whenever we feel lustful thoughts toward a beautiful woman,
we should try to visualize her as a family member. How so? Well, if she were
older to think of her as our mother; if she were the same age, to see her as
our sister, if she were younger then as our daughter. Now I know where he got
that idea! In other words, To gaze upon an attractive woman as family
effectively extinguishes Cupids’ flaming arrows of eros. Purity, therefore,
restores peace in relationships.
Thirdly, the pope-saint turns his
attention to the highly suggestive metaphors of “a garden closed” and “a
fountain sealed” (Song 4:12). John Paul maintains that these restrictive images
reveal that the depths of each spouse’s personality – particularly the bride’s
– remain inviolable, in a sense, out of the bridegroom’s reach, until she
willingly unlocks the gates to her heart. The pope argues:
The “sister-bride” is for the man
the master of her own mystery as a “garden closed” and a “fountain sealed.” The
“language of the body” reread in the truth goes hand in hand with the discovery
of the inner inviolability of the person (572).
The most moving depiction I have
ever seen of the inviolability of the human heart was in the movie “Gandhi”,
starring Ben Kingsley. The intrepid liberator of India called his countrymen to
non-violent resistance to British rule. He declared:
All Indians must now be
fingerprinted, like criminals [but we will not submit to this rule]...We will
not strike a blow, but we will resist them…And through our pain we will make
them see their injustice, and it will hurt – as all fighting hurts. They may
torture my body, break my bones, even kill me. Then they will have my dead body
– not my obedience.
Like citizens freely choose to obey
government authority (or not), so spouses freely choose to submit to one
another out of love (or not). Obedience and love reside infinitely higher than
the ruthless reach of coercion.
John Paul articulates how spouses
entrust the hidden depths of their personalities by becoming a gift:
The truth of the increasing
closeness of the spouses through love develops in the subjective dimension “of
the heart,” of affection and sentiment. In the same dimension, this is equally
the discovery within oneself of the gift of the other, in some sense, of
“tasting him” within oneself (574).
That is, a “fountain sealed”
remains intrinsically inviolable until the person makes a gift of himself,
allowing the other person to taste the depths of their love.
And then John Paul adds this
concluding corollary. When the spousal gift of self has reached its maximum
intensity and truth – when couples have given of themselves down to the last
drop – they take a step beyond eros and reach the sublime heights of agape.
That is, spouses move beyond the Old Testament world of the Song of Songs, and
wade into the New Testament world of St. Paul.
John Paul seems to speak
contemplatively:
[I]t seems that love here opens up
before us, I would say, in two perspectives, as though that in which human eros
closes its own horizon were opened further, through Paul’s words, in another
horizon of love that speaks another language, the love that seems to emerge
from another dimension of the person, and which calls, invites, to another
communion. This love has been called agape (590).
In other words, every human love
ultimately leaves the spouses thirsting for more. That is not a criticism of
human love, but an important acknowledgement that we are made for divine love,
for communion with God himself. As Christopher West once said: “Don’t hang your
hat on a hook that cannot bear its weight.” No human spouse can bear the weight
of our desire for infinite love.
And perhaps that is the most
helpful insight for spousal spirituality: human love, great as it is, finally
betrays a fatal flaw: it has an expiration date, but we seek a love that is
eternal. Every human married couple inevitably runs out of wine, until they
invite Jesus to their wedding feast, and finally realize he is “the best wine”
because he alone is the eternal Bridegroom.
Praised be Jesus
Christ!
No comments:
Post a Comment